Job

¹“But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I considered unworthy to put with my sheep dogs. ²Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, men in whom ripe age has perished? ³They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation. ⁴They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom tree are their food. ⁵They are driven out from among men. They cry after them as after a thief, ⁶so that they live in frightful valleys, and in holes of the earth and of the rocks. ⁷They bray among the bushes. They are gathered together under the nettles. ⁸They are children of fools, yes, children of wicked men. They were flogged out of the land. ⁹“Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them. ¹⁰They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and don’t hesitate to spit in my face. ¹¹For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me; and they have thrown off restraint before me. ¹²On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet. They cast their ways of destruction up against me. ¹³They mar my path. They promote my destruction without anyone’s help. ¹⁴As through a wide breach they come. They roll themselves in amid the ruin. ¹⁵Terrors have turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud. ¹⁶“Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold of me. ¹⁷In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest. ¹⁸My garment is disfigured by great force. It binds me about as the collar of my tunic. ¹⁹He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes. ²⁰I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me. ²¹You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of your hand you persecute me. ²²You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm. ²³For I know that you will bring me to death, to the house appointed for all living. ²⁴“However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help? ²⁵Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy? ²⁶When I looked for good, then evil came. When I waited for light, darkness came. ²⁷My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest. Days of affliction have come on me. ²⁸I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help. ²⁹I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to ostriches. ³⁰My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat. ³¹Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.